How many sleeps ’til Christmas?

I have two choices. On the one hand, I can lock myself away for the next six weeks or so, insulating myself from the sensory barrage of holiday music, decorations, television and radio ads, and emotional avalanche of cards featuring smiling, happy families and pets, adorned in holiday finery. Or, I can dig deep and resolutely capture holiday cheer within my weary heart.

A more accurate sentiment would be that I face these exact two choices every single hour until New Year’s Day.

As a child, we perceive the holiday season through lenses wonderously free from anxiety. Of COURSE Santa will come if you have been well behaved and send him a polite letter listing toys and delights you hope to find beneath your tree. That’s how it works. The ratio between “good behavior” and “heaps of presents” remains in the unwavering alignment amidst the boundaries of childhood perspective.

Flash forward to adulthood and that perspective’s precarious “alignment” gleams.

The truth is, many of us search in vain for that hopeful magic.  Jaded by life’s frailties and struggles, the gossamer memories of glittering trees, people happily gathered in celebration, and animated holiday specials fade.  Though we strive to recreate these experiences for ourselves and our children, the spectacle pales in comparison to those of our youth.

It becomes a painful struggle, each day, to lay to sleep hopes and dreams of Christmases past that never came to be. Severed relationships, financial struggles and seasonal depression strain our emotions in direct correlation to the impending holiday’s approach.

Unless we fight to hold the light of the promise of the season within our porous hearts.

Each bauble I picture over my non-existent fireplace mantel, every roll of wrapping paper I won’t need for gifts I cannot afford, all the trees awaiting purchase in lots pierces my soul. But I refuse to turn away. For somewhere in the depths of my floundering soul remains a promise.

“I am the light of the world”.

I have only to trust Him and believe I walk in the path He intends and I will receive gifts unavailable at even the schwankiest of stores. And so, though my eyes fill with tears watching the excitement of children and the embrace of those in love this holiday season, I focus on His promise. I lean on His word. I salvage hope. I listen intently for guidance. I take the next steps in faith. And I trust that my Christmas, as a child of God, will never disappoint.